From Where We Stand
by ladyoftheknightley
Summary: By the end of their sixth year, Lily's relationship with James has completely changed - they're not friends, but they're not not, either. She's still trying to work out what this means, when a series of deaths irrevocably change their relationship once again... / For glowing-neons


**Disclaimer: **Copyright JKR, obvs.

**A/N: **for Sylvia/**glowing-neons **as part of the Gift Giving Extravaganza for the month of January (yes, I know it's May. I am an awful human).

* * *

The middle of June always felt like a strange time to Lily. The days themselves would grow progressively lovelier, the nights warmer and lighter until later, and the grounds of Hogwarts never looked more beautiful as they did when they were filled with flowers of all colours, shown off to their best effect by the near constant sunlight. Despite all this, though, the students themselves were usually in no position to appreciate the glory, for they were all in the middle of exam hell.

The fifth and seventh years had it worst, with OWLs and NEWTs respectively, and so Lily and the other sixth years had something of a reprieve. Their exams, set by their teachers rather than an external body at the Ministry, were important, but not as completely life altering as next summer's exams would be. Nevertheless, the library had an atmosphere that was more akin that of a funeral than a place of study, and the dormitories and Common Rooms were usually fairly similar. The closest most students got to the outdoors was longing glances out of high up windows as they tried to memorize definitions and dates, and perfect wand movements.

Lily herself had a slight break coming up. She was halfway through her exams, but after the next day's Charms practical (which she was quite looking forward to, as she enjoyed Charms), she had no more exams until the following Monday, which was a whole five days away—an age, in exam terms.

Mary and Marlene, two of the girls she shared the sixth year girls dormitory with, were not as happy. Mary, who struggled with Charms, was not at all looking forward to the practical, and had spent the evening getting more and more wound up as she repeatedly tried—and failed—to get various incantations just right. Marlene took Arithmancy, and had a three hour exam in the subject at nine in the morning. After she had snapped at Lily for turning the pages of her textbook too loudly—not looking up from her own notes as she did so—Lily had thought it might be a good time to go for a walk, and so she found herself strolling along the edge of the lake, enjoying the late evening sunshine.

"I should've brought Mary and Marlene with me," she mused aloud to herself. "They could do with relaxing..." Though she would never have admitted it out loud, she found herself quite relieved at watching her fellow students stress over their exams. For the briefest of moments, their concerns were limited to how many marks they'd need to get to achieve an E in Transfiguration, or whether or not Shrinking Solutions were likely to come up on the Potions practical. The growing threat from the man styling himself as Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters had affected even the youngest of the students, and many now knew at least one person who had been injured—or worse—as a result of these attacks. Exam time was different, though. It was nice to see children being children again, and having their biggest worries be simple things—assessments and schoolwork—not blood purity and potential threats to their families and friends.

Musing on this, Lily rounded a corner and stopped short. She had arrived at the Quidditch Changing Rooms, and stood outside the building was James Potter. He was clutching a piece of parchment in his hand, but as she watched, he let out a strangled yell, full of rage and sadness and despair before hitting the hard stone wall with his fists three times in quick succession and falling to his knees. She could no longer see his face – for he had buried it in his hands – but by the way his shoulders were shaking, she knew he had to be crying. It would have been obvious to even the slowest first year that he'd just received some very bad news—and with the political situation being what it was, Lily was certain that she could make an educated guess as to what that news might be.

She hesitated for half a second. James clearly needed a friend, but Lily wasn't sure she was qualified to be that person for him. She could fetch Sirius, Remus or Peter—or indeed, many other people, all of whom knew him better than she did. Over the past year, they'd become...if not exactly friends, at least no longer sworn enemies. As sixth year had progressed, they had gone from politely ignoring each other, to being able to have a civil conversation over some neutral topic, like the weather or homework, to acknowledging each other's presence with a nod and a 'hello' when they met in the corridor.

But whilst Lily was able to tolerate James now, she didn't _know_ him – at least, not well enough to look after him right now. He needed a proper friend, and she should fetch one of the other sixth year boys. She knew exactly what had to have happened—with the war on, the intensely private scene she was accidentally witnessing had become more and more common. James had a small family – he was an only child, and she'd never heard him mention grandparents. It had to have been one—or, the knot in her stomach hardening at the thought, both—of his parents.

The right thing to do would be to go to fetch someone—anyone—who knew James better, and to do it _now_. James would never have wanted anyone to see him like this, and especially not her. But even if she ran up to Gryffindor Tower, it could easily be half an hour by the time she'd located one of the Marauders and they'd found James. He could have moved on to some place different, somewhere much more private by then – and he needed a friend now. Lily might not have been much, but she was all he had.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked over to him, trying to make as much noise as possible to announce her presence. James did not look up. "Pot—James," she called, once she was close enough to him that she could almost reach out and touch him. At this, he did look up, but it was only the fact that he said her name that Lily knew he was aware of her standing there. He looked lost.

"He's dying," he rasped, his voice hoarse from his tears. "Lily—my Dad. He's..." He gave a strangled yell, and this time there was no hesitation when Lily crossed the remaining space between them, sank down beside him and wrapped her arms around him. James put his head on her shoulders and wept.

Mere hours ago, if someone had told her that one day she would be willingly hugging James Potter, Lily would have dropped dead from shock. Though she and James managed—usually for the sake of the other people with them at the time—to get on these days, they hardly knew each other. There was still a large part of him that was, to her at least, the arrogant bully who irritated her beyond belief by constantly asking her out (and refusing to take no for an answer). But this James was, of course, nothing like that. He was almost a child in his grief, and Lily found her heart aching for him. She had gathered him in her arms so easily, let him soak her blouse with his tears so willingly, because she understood what he was going through, and had been grateful to her friends when they'd done the same for her.

Back in early January of her second year, her own father had died. He'd worked in a coal mine and one day a freak accident trapped him and several other miners underground. When they'd been located, two of the four were already dead, and her father had passed away after a few days in an Intensive Care Ward. She understood all too well what James was going through.

Dusk had fallen properly by the time James stopped crying and her left arm had seized up completely, but when he finally drew away from her, he looked, strangely enough, better. "Sorry," he muttered, wiping a hand across his face.

"It's fine," she said, and then he blushed hugely, turning almost as red as her hair.

"Lily!" he said. "I didn't realise it was...that you were..."

Lily shook her head. "Honestly, James. It's fine. I...I understand." He shot her a quizzical look. "My Dad died, when we were second years. I understand. It gets...time helps."

He didn't smile, as such (Lily remembered the feeling well; it was as though her mouth had forgotten how to make the gesture for many months afterwards), but a look of acknowledgement flickered across his face. "I feel stupid, though," he said, not looking at her but instead at the grass he was sitting on. "I mean, there's a bloody war on, and I'm crying over my _Dad_."

Lily felt confused. He had said that his father was dead, and she knew his parents had been famous Aurors in their day. Whilst he was a Pureblood, James had always made it clear that he had no truck with Voldemort's sympathisers' views, and she had always assumed his parents felt the same—making them sitting ducks, as far as the Death Eaters were concerned. Was it possible that she'd misunderstood? Misheard something?

Her confusion must have shown, as James took a deep breath and said, "My Dad...he has Spattergroit."

"What's—"

"It's a disease that affects witches and wizards. Very nasty. If you're very young—or very old, like my Dad is, it can kill you. Usually does, in fact," James said, deliberately trying to keep his tone light and airy, which only served to make all the more obvious the fact that it _wasn't_. "My Dad...well, it's all come on very suddenly. The Healers, at St. Mungo's, they've said he's got a few weeks..." His voice broke on the last word, but he remained dried eyed. "I mean, I've spent years half expecting something to happen to them cause of these blood purist nutters that keep running around, but...fucking _Spattergroit_. It's not fair!

"But then," he continued, pressing on wildly, "I feel guilty. I get time to see my Dad before he..._goes_ and he's old, he's had a good life. There are children being killed by the fucking Death Eaters. _Children_. People who just turn up dead out of the blue. I get time to say goodbye, to prepare. They have nothing. I've no right to—to..." He broke off in a sob, and Lily reached out to him.

He shook her hand roughly off his shoulder. "There's no right or wrong way to grieve, James," she said gently, then immediately kicked herself for it. Such ridiculously inane phrases had done nothing but anger her after her own father had died.

James snorted angrily. "How did...I mean, what happened with..." he trailed off, looking up at her.

"My Dad?" she asked.

He nodded. "If you don't mind me asking."

"He worked in a coal mine – he's a Muggle, you know? Well, anyway, one day, there was an accident at work, and...he didn't make it. It was second year, right before we were due to come back after the hols. I stayed off until the end of January..."

"I remember," James said softly. "I would say I'm sorry, but..."

"But it's an utterly meaningless phrase said by people who don't know what else to say?" Lily finished wryly. "It's okay. I remember that feeling."

"It's all the guys are saying to me," he said. "And I know they mean well, but I just had to...I wanted to just get away from them for a bit. I've just had a letter from my Mum." He indicated the now very rumpled piece of parchment on the floor. "I'm going home on Friday. McGonagall's going to let me sit the rest of my exams over the next couple of days, and then I'm off for the summer hols two weeks early. Guess I should thank my Dad for getting me an extended break." He gave a humourless laugh.

"If you wanted, I could speak to Professor McGonagall as a Prefect and get her to cancel your exams entirely? It doesn't really seem fair that you have to sit them now, and—"

"No, I want to take them," James said. "Gives me something to concentrate on over the next couple of days. I want to be able to...to..."

"Be consumed by something as trivial as the differences between Gwendolyn the Gregarious and Matilda the Maudlin and their roles in the 1632 Goblin Rebellions?" Lily asked.

"Exactly. Mustn't forget the important things in life," James said. It wasn't quite a joke, but Lily forced out a laugh regardless. "Look, it's nearly dark now. It must be past curfew. You should get back."

"Aren't you coming?" Lily asked. Though she was a Prefect, she wasn't too worried about staying out late—there were some times when it was acceptable to break school rules, and finding out an acquaintance's (she still wasn't sure if she could call James a friend yet) parent was dying was one of them.

James shook his head. "I just need to be outside tonight," he said. "Don't worry—I'm not going to do anything stupid. I'm not suicidal, or anything. The dorm can just be a bit...suffocating, that's all."

"D'you want me to tell Sirius and everyone where you are?" she asked.

"They'll know already," James said, somewhat mysteriously. "But listen, Lily—thanks. For just...for being...just thanks."

"Anytime," she said softly. "I know what it's like, and...yeah. Just...take care of yourself."

James nodded. "You, too," he said. There was a slightly awkward moment where she wasn't sure if she should say something else, which she covered up by patting him slightly robotically on the shoulder, then scrambling to her feet. She said goodbye to him, but he just nodded in return, and when she looked back at him, just before she slipped into the castle through a side door, he was looking away from her, out across the Quidditch pitch.

* * *

She realised, of course, when she woke the next morning and remembered the previous night that things had changed between her and James. Last night not only marked the longest conversation they'd ever had, but it was also the most personal. James had cried in her arms for nearly an hour (she suspected this was because he hadn't fully registered who she was, but still), and they'd exchanged stories of their parents' dying.

Marlene had already left for her Arithmancy exam, and Mary was taking a long shower to relax before their Charms practical later, so she couldn't ask her roommates about what she should do next—should she act like nothing had changed, or try to talk to James about it all? Besides, the whole thing felt secret and private, and more than that, it wasn't her secret to tell. She couldn't exactly go gossiping to her friends over what was, after all, a horrible event in James Potter's life, but she knew that their relationship had changed, probably irrevocably.

Up until their fifth year, he had been (at best) an annoying git with a crush on her, who constantly bullied her best friend. Sixth year had ended her relationship with Severus completely, and brought a new, mature James Potter, but though they had managed to get on with each other, they had not exactly grown close. Last night had effectively changed all of that—she had chosen to be there for James when he was at his most vulnerable. She'd have done the same for anyone she knew, really, but it still felt odd to have done it for _James Potter_.

Lily decided that she'd take her lead from him as the next few days progressed—if he wanted to talk to her about his Dad, she of all people understood how this could help, and would listen to him. If he pretended that nothing had happened, she'd do the same. But James was kept so busy with his exams; by the other Marauders, who were rallying around him with determination and with getting ready to leave Hogwarts for the year that she barely caught sight of him, and then he was gone.

A week after his departure, a brief note arrived for her with the morning post. She didn't recognise his handwriting, but she did recognise the owl that brought the envelope – a gorgeous, snowy white creature. She offered it an owl treat, and scanned the letter quickly.

_Lily—_

_I can't remember if I ever properly thanked you for the other night, so if I didn't: thank you. I owe you (and not just for letting me get snot all over your blouse). _

_I hope you have an enjoyable summer, and that exams weren't too bad._

_See you in September,_

_James_

She was unable to ascertain whether or not his father had succumbed to the disease (she had looked up Spattergroit in the library and realised that his chances of recovery, were very, very slim), but she thought that from his light tone, he probably hadn't. She took her time composing a reply, going through many sheets of parchment as she started letters and then discarded them. She couldn't write _I'm sorry for your loss _as it sounded like his father was still alive, but _I'm sorry for your impending loss _certainly wasn't an option, even if it was true. She concentrated on trying not to project too much onto his situation—in some moments, she guiltily found herself feeling almost jealous of James that he got to spend these last few weeks with his father, when she would give anything to have even a few hours with her own Dad. More than once, she'd found herself starting sentences like _Make sure you tell him_ before realising that she was writing what she wanted to tell her father, not what James should tell his, and she'd angrily screw the parchment up in a ball and vanish it.

In the end, it took her three days to compose a two-line reply: _You don't owe me anything. It's what friends are for –L_ but it was the only meaningful reply she could send.

She got nothing in response.

* * *

-:-

* * *

Lily wasn't sure what had woken her, but _something_ had definitely caused her to sit bolt upright in her childhood bed, suddenly alert. She listened intently, but could only hear the sound of her sister's breathing in the bedroom next door, and the bed springs twanging as her mother rolled over a couple of rooms away. She glanced at the radio on the bedside table, which read 01:03. Maybe it had just been a bad dream...

Just as she had been about to lie down and go back to bed, she heard a familiar, yet terribly out of place sound – the muffled crack of apparition. There were low, harsh voices outside. She got up, crept over to the window and pulled back the curtain, wand in hand.

A few yards down the road, a group of figures all dressed in black were gathered. She could see the familiar pinpricks of light that signified a wand lit with the _Lumos_ charm. Other than those tiny spots, it seemed unnaturally dark, even for the late hour of the night—or early hour of the morning. Lily clutched her wand tighter. These days, people tended not to gather on street corners in dark robes in the middle of the night. It had certain..._connotations_.

But, she tried to tell herself, that was ridiculous. There was no way any Death Eaters would be hanging around _here_ on a random Tuesday in July. This was a Muggle neighbourhood – the only other magical family around was Severus's. And he wouldn't...would he?

These days, she didn't know.

She stood at the window for over an hour, clutching her wand, whilst her mother, sister, and the rest of the street slept on. When her clock read 02:21, there was another pop, and another robed figure appeared. "It is done," she heard him say, and his voice made her shiver involuntarily. The others seemed to defer to him, because he left shortly after this pronouncement, and then, one by one, they did too. One of them glanced up at her house before leaving, and she quickly ducked out of sight, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure he would be able to hear it.

After five minutes, she dared to look up. All the figures were gone, but Lily couldn't relax. She pulled up the old chair at her desk, placed it in front of the window, and sat down, wand at the ready. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

* * *

Lily awoke, stiff and sore, and glanced at the clock once again. The room was now bathed in light, and the last thing she remembered was a faint pink glow appearing on the horizon. It was now 09:34, according to the radio. She must have had about four hours' sleep.

She yawned hugely, getting out of the uncomfortable chair. She briefly contemplated getting back into her bed and falling asleep again, but decided against it. In the morning light, everything seemed much less frightening than it had last night, and she wasn't even sure if she'd dreamed some of the events. Witches and wizards did not frequent this sleepy, Muggle street.

Lily pulled her slippers on and headed downstairs to the kitchen. The weather was beautiful, and she was sure that today was going to be a lovely day. Her mother and sister were both watching something on the television in the living room as she passed. "Good morning!" she trilled

"Ssh!" Petunia turned around to hush her, looking uncharacteristically serious.

"What—" began Lily, but Petunia hushed her again. Her mother hadn't even looked away from the television. Lily crept closer. The rolling text on the bottom of the screen announced that there had been a murder, and a man's body had been found in a park.

"..._now go live to the park where Mr. Cornfoot's body was found. Steve, what can you tell us?_" The BBC newsdesk fell away and was replaced by a suited, serious looking reporter standing in a horribly familiar park.

"That's where we—"

"Used to play as children," Petunia finished, looking over at her. "I know." Lily felt a rare moment of connection with Petunia, before turning back to the television. A photograph of the man Lily presumed was the victim was now up on the screen. His name was Ian Cornfoot, and he was a remarkably average looking man in his mid-thirties.

"..._only unusual thing about his physical appearance was the apparent look of fright on his face_," the reporter was saying. "_No obvious wounds have been found on his body, leading some to speculate that he was poisoned_." Lily frowned. No obvious wounds...the suspicious looking wizards who had been hanging around on her street corner last night, only a few minutes' walk from the park where the murder had taken place... It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"Steve, some are speculating that this could be the result of Russian spies' involvement – Mr. Cornfoot did work in government. How accurate are—"

"I can't watch this any more!" Lily's mother said suddenly, rushing out of the room with a hand over her face.

"Too close to home," Petunia muttered. Lily nodded. "I'll see if she's okay. You stay here."

Normally, she would have resented her sister's dismissive tone, but she noticed an owl swooping towards the house. "Sure," she said, waiting for her sister to exit the room before quickly opening the window for the creature. She opened the newspaper it dropped in her lap immediately. _Auror Cornfoot found dead! _the headline screamed. _You-Know-Who's involvement suspected!_

"Honestly," Lily said disgustedly. "Is the _Prophet_ not even going to print the name now?" She scanned the article, and learnt that Ian Cornfoot had been a rising star in the Auror Department at the Ministry, and an outspoken proponent of Muggleborn rights. He had apparently left work last night, but never arrived home. Lily shivered at the thought. Anyone with any information was being asked to inform the Ministry...

Anyone with any information...

"I'm the only witch around here," she said to the owl, who eyed her indifferently. "They'd know it was me, and what if they targeted Mum and Petunia? How would I even contact the Ministry? And what would I say? 'Some people were outside my house last night'?! They'd think I was a nutcase...or a timewaster at best."

The owl hooted. "I'm not a nutcase," she informed it. "I just wish I had someone magical to talk about it with. I don't want to panic Mum, especially in the state she's in already, and Petunia...pfft." She snorted. "If I could just talk to someone who had experience with this sort of thing, maybe Marlene, she wants to be an Auror...but she's in Spain until the middle of August. Alice Figg? But I never really knew her, and I haven't spoken to her since she finished school, and _that_ was two years ago now..."

James Potter's face jumped into her mind.

No, she couldn't...

But his parents had both been Aurors; if anyone would know if what she'd seen was serious—and how to keep her name out of the events—it would be them. They had been highly respected, too. She remembered reading, back in her third year, article after article about them in the _Prophet_ when they finally retired, and being surprised that two such seemingly competent, pleasant people had spawned someone as horrible as James.

But his Dad was dead now. The Potters—the two that remained—were in mourning; Marlene, being from another of the old magical families, had been to the funeral and passed that on to her and Mary, before she'd left to go on holiday. She couldn't disturb them.

But this was serious. And James had said that he owed her...

The owl hooted again, making up her mind for her. "How would you like to deliver another letter for me?"

* * *

-:-

* * *

She landed on a hill in the middle of Somerset, and looked around. The place was gorgeous: sunshine, green grass as far as the eye could see, a light breeze rustling the leaves in the trees and the bluest of skies. A figure was approaching her, walking up from the bottom of the hill, and as it got closer, she recognised James.

She felt relieved – she'd managed to apparate to the correct place, then.

James's reply to her rather cryptic letter yesterday had been swift, but mostly comprised of a destination to apparate to. She had asked to see both him and his mother, and tried to impress upon him the seriousness of the situation, though she hadn't wanted to write "I think I saw the people who murdered Auror Cornfoot". Instead, she'd made pointed remarks about 'current events' and trusted the fact that James, being fairly bright, would be enough to fill in the blanks. It wasn't that she thought anyone would be reading her post, but one could never be too careful these days...

He looked tired, and somehow simultaneously younger and older, as he walked towards her now, but he did manage a smile. "James!" she called in greeting, walking over to him.

"Wait," he said, holding up a hand. "What was in the letter I sent you at the end of the year?"

Lily frowned, but he seemed insistent that he answered her. "Er—you said that you owed me. And you apologised for snotting all over my blouse."

"Good," he nodded, closing the distance between them. "You can't be too careful these days."

"I'm so grateful to you for seeing me on such short notice," she said, by way of reply. "It's about the Cornfoot—oh!"

Suddenly, James's lips were on hers, and he was kissing her. Some part of her brain was in shock, trying to tell her to push him away, but the rest of her body was screaming out for him in a way she'd never have thought possible. It wasn't until he pulled away a few seconds later that she realised she'd been reciprocating.

"What..." she stuttered, blushing. Though James's lips were no longer on hers, their faces were so close their noses were almost touching, and she wanted desperately to reach up and kiss him again. But of course, that was just her hormones, she assured herself.

"We think we're being watched," James muttered. "Don't mention anything about Ian. Hold my hand, and pretend you're my girlfriend."

"Are you kidding me?" Lily hissed back. "Is this all a ploy to—"

"You were the one who started this, writing the damn letter," James said. "And anyway, I don't like you in that way anymore – we're just friends, yeah?" For some reason, this caused an odd, swooping sensation in her stomach, which she did her best to ignore. "I'm not using this as some excuse to grope you. But we _are_ being watched, and we need to get to my house _quickly_. Just pretend we're dating, and it'll work."

In one fluid movement, he altered the angle of his body so his hand was in hers, and started walking her quickly down the hill, towards a little copse of trees. "I've missed you, sweetie," he said, perhaps slightly louder than was necessary.

"_Sweetie_?" she hissed at him.

"Just go with it," he snapped back, out of the corner of his mouth.

"I've missed you, too," she said, copying his cloying tone of voice, pausing ever so slightly before adding, "honey-bunch." It was James's turn to glare. "I can't _wait_ to finally meet your mother! Seeing all your baby pictures will just be adorable! _Better_?" she hissed the last word again, putting as much menace into it as possible.

He was still holding her hand, perhaps more tightly than necessary, and he ignored the comment. "She can't wait to meet you too," he said, still in the falsely sweet voice. "She's been dying to ever since she found out you were pregnant. She's so looking forward to grandchildren!"

"Of course she is, darling!" Lily cried. "And that's all she's going to be able do because I am going to remove your testicles at the earliest opportunity," she snarled under her breath.

James, now pulling her through the little copse, smiled benignly. "I _do_ think we made the right decision in dropping out of school to raise a brood together!"

"I am going to _end you_," Lily said, not even bothering to lower her voice this time. "You're—oh!" James had dropped her hand, as, out of nowhere, a beautiful old thatched cottage had appeared. Cottage, she thought belatedly, was the wrong word – the house was four stories high, and sat in expansive, neatly manicured grounds. It was so big, she definitely should have been able to see it from on top of the hill, but—

"Blood wards," said James. "That's why I had to tell you to apparate to the top of the hill; you have to be a Potter, or be with a Potter, to find the place. But we're safe here – no one can get in, at least not without powerful Dark Magic, so you can feel free to talk about Ian as much as you'd like."

Lily took all this in before replying. "Insinuate I'm pregnant again, _Potter_, and I'll follow through with my threat."

"What threat?" asked James.

"The one whereby I remove your ability to have children," she said.

"That wasn't what you said before. Not the exact wording, at any rate," he replied. "I distinctly recall that you, Lily Evans, said the word _testicles_."

"Oh _shut up_," Lily said.

"Never," James responded. "This is the most fun I've had in—a while." The mood shifted. She had been surprised with the ease with which she and James had fallen into an easy banter, but his rather lame finishing of that sentence had thrown her off-kilter.

"How are...things?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not so bad," James answered, at length. "Mum's...coping. She's actually gone back to work. Unofficially. Part time. Keep her occupied, you know?" Lily must have looked confused, so he continued. "The thing you have to know about Mum, is that she was an absolutely _brilliant_ Auror back in the day. The best of the best. But then, when she was only about thirty-five, she got injured, so she couldn't go out, you know, in the field. They kept her on a desk job, but she just _revolutionised_ the way the department was run. Dad was good at his job, but Mum...she's incredible." The pride in his voice when he spoke of his mother made him sound so _Gryffindor_, she gave a small smile.

"What do you mean about her going back unofficially? Is that allowed?" she asked.

"Kind of. Not really. But not because of any laws or anything – the problem is her successor," James replied, sighing heavily.

"Mathias Fawcett, isn't it?" Lily asked. "He's always in the papers."

"Yes," James said shortly. "He's...well, he's a Pureblood who's quite extreme in his views, if not his actions. I mean, I guess he was good in the field, so I suppose he's a good Auror, but his politics are questionable at best. It's funny, because most of the Fawcetts aren't like that, but..." He drifted off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Well, anyway, he's been saying questionable things about Muggleborns for years, and loads of people—Mum included—have raised concerns about him."

"You don't think he's one of the Death Eaters, do you?" Lily asked, wide-eyed. Her fears over going directly to the Ministry with what she'd witnessed had been vindicated, but she wished that this wasn't the case.

James shook his head quickly. "I don't think he's one of them, but I think he sympathises with where they're coming from. There's a lot of the old Purebloods who are like that—"I wouldn't kill anyone myself, but I'll happily stand by whilst others do the dirty work"," he spat disgustedly. "Anyway, Ian Cornfoot had been one of the most vocal against Fawcett's regime. A few weeks ago, Frank Longbottom was made Field Commander, over Gawain Robards. Don't get me wrong—Frank's an excellent Auror from what I've heard and the Longbottoms would sooner die themselves than get involved with all this blood purity bollocks—but he's only one year out of training to Gawain's six, _and_ Gawain's already been decorated three times for bravery."

"But he's Muggleborn, right?" Lily asked.

"How did you guess?" James asked drily.

Lily snorted. "I'm beginning to see the way the wizarding world works," she said.

James made a noise in his throat like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. "We're nearly at the house now," he said lamely. Lily could see this – they had been walking up the garden path for nearly five minutes now, and were finally within a few yards of the front door. "I'm sorry about kissing you," he continued, blushing slightly. "I meant what I said about us being watched—Fawcett's keeping tabs on Mum, Merlin knows what he expects to find, but whatever—and I had to shut you up somehow. I didn't mean to... I know that I used to—"

"It's fine," Lily said, keen to cut off his stammering. "Really, it is. Why is Fawcett keeping tabs on your mother?" she asked, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. That kiss had been...no, she didn't want to think about it.

"Well, she been championing Ian for so long and she's been demanding that Fawcett do something about his murder. All of yesterday, and most of this morning she's been at the Ministry, trying to see him and kick him into action over the Cornfoot case, and he thinks she's going to use his murder as an excuse to usurp him and have him thrown out. I mean, someone's _died_ and he's worried about politics. It's disgusting, really," James said. "Anyway, here we are," he added, rather unnecessarily, as he pushed open the front door.

Lily stepped inside the house in front of him, as he was holding the door for her gallantly, and took a moment to look around. The hallway was light and airy, and pleasantly cool after the July heat outside. The floor was covered with Minton tiles, and the walls were painted cream. Hanging on them were various photos, some almost yellowing with age. She spotted a few of James when he was a baby, before looking away, not wanting to seem too nosy. The house itself seemed subdued and quiet—she recognised this at once from the way her house had felt after her own father's death—but this oddly reassured her. She might have been intimidated by James's obvious wealth and status (it was something that was never really visible at school, but this aristocratic house clearly belonged to a family with a _lot_ of money), but she remembered how vulnerable he'd seemed right at the end of last term, and realised that money and fancy houses and status didn't stop him from suffering the same losses that she had.

"I'll just go and see if Mum's—"

"I'm here," a crisp voice said, and one of the many doors off the hallway opened, cutting James off. James's mother stepped out of the room, and Lily bit back a gasp of surprise. Her hair, drawn back into a tight bun that was not too dissimilar to Professor McGonagall's, was completely white, and her face was lined with many wrinkles. She looked older than even Lily's grandmother, and she suspected that this had only something to do with her husband's recent death. She had known James's parents were older than most, but she hadn't realised they were _this_ old. "Good afternoon," she said, holding out a hand for Lily to shake. "You must be Miss Evans?"

"Lily," Lily said, shaking her hand. Mrs. Potter had a surprisingly firm grip. "Thank you for seeing me today, Mrs. Potter. I know this is a difficult time..."

"Call me Elizabeth," Mrs. Potter said, smiling at her. She was warm and reassuring when she smiled, and Lily found herself relaxing. "And not at all. I was much intrigued by your letter."

"I think I saw something, that night," Lily said hesitantly. She was well aware of how she would seem to Mrs. Potter. She was only just of age, wearing slightly scruffy Muggle clothing in this fancy, magical house, and she was claiming to be able to assist with the investigation into the murder of a prominent wizard in the Auror department. But James's mother did not seem to be at all patronising or condescending, and instead nodded seriously.

"Of course," she said. "It would be very helpful to hear what you have to say. We have no other witnesses, you see. James," she said, slightly louder, and Lily was startled. She had almost forgotten he was there. "Go into the kitchen and see if Tricksy will make us some refreshments, would you? Have her bring them to the white room, if she can, then come and join us. You don't mind James being present, do you Lily?"

"Er—no," Lily answered.

"Good," said Mrs. Potter. "Follow me, please." Lily followed her obediently down the corridor. She couldn't see Mrs. Potter's feet, for they were obscured by the long, black dress robes she was wearing, but the clicking of her shoes on the tiles suggested she was wearing heels. Lily felt self-conscious about her own jeans and trainers combination, before remembering that James was wearing the same thing, and that Mrs. Potter was hardly anti-Muggle.

She had wondered why the room was called the white room, until she stepped inside. Both the walls and the wooden floorboards had been painted white, and white net curtains hung across the windows. The bookshelves and desk were also white, but the room seemed homely, rather than clinical. Various magical knickknacks filled the shelves, and a quill was writing something on a piece of parchment seemingly of its own accord at the desk. Even after having spent time at Marlene's house—not to mention the countless days at Hogwarts—this seemed strange to Lily, who was still far more used to the Muggle way of living, and she tried not to stare. Mrs. Potter pulled a wooden chair from behind the desk and set it down in front of the fireplace, which was not lit. She sat down in it, and indicated Lily should take a seat on the cream coloured sofa.

Lily's position gave her a fine view out of the open French doors, into another garden. This one was filled with so many flowers, she actually gasped aloud. "Your garden is beautiful," she said before she could stop herself.

Mrs. Potter smiled. "It is all my husband's work," she said. "He loved gardening. I, myself, have never had green fingers, but I have been doing my best since he passed."

Lily flushed slightly. She hadn't meant to draw attention to the elephant in the room. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said, rather lamely.

Mrs. Potter inclined her head in thanks. "We are managing," she said. "Harold had a good, long life, and he was grateful for that."

"How is James doing?" Lily asked.

"As well as can be expected, I think," Mrs. Potter replied. "He has his good days and his bad, but the boys are here a lot, and they help him. It's good that he has friends like them and you, at this time."

_I'm not his friend! _Lily nearly said, but she caught herself in time, realising how this would sound. Fortunately, James himself arrived in the room then, announcing that Tricksy would bring some lemonade up soon, effectively cutting off the small talk between Lily and his mother. He took a seat next to her on the sofa, but was careful to leave a large gap between them – a third person could easily have sat in the space he left.

"So, Lily," Mrs. Potter said. "What was it you came to talk to us about?"

Lily couldn't help glance at James out of the corner of her eye, who nodded at her encouragingly. She took a deep breath. "The park I used to play in as a child was the one Mr. Cornfoot's body was found in yesterday morning," she began. "It's only a couple of minutes' walk from my house. I live in a Muggle neighbourhood – as far as I'm aware, there's only one other wizarding family in the vicinity. On the night of the murder, something woke me up at about one in the morning."

She paused, noticing that Mrs. Potter was waving her wand at another quill and piece of parchment, but continuing to look at her. It was odd to think that what she said was being written down, like she was in one of those police dramas that her mother liked to watch. "I got out of bed and looked out of the window. There was a group of men standing at the bottom of my road – the sound of them apparating had woken me. From where they were standing, they would have been able to see the park, I think. They had their wands lit, but I don't think they performed any other spells. They stayed there until about half past two, when someone came and told them that 'It is done', and then they apparated away."

Mrs. Potter got up and walked over to the French windows, clearly deep in thought. "Describe these men," she said. "How many were there? What were they wearing?"

"There were five, and then the sixth joined them at the end. I think he might have been their leader. He had a very deep voice, so he was definitely a man. The others I couldn't tell – it was dark, and the streetlamps weren't on. There was one smaller one who might have been a woman, but judging by the build, the rest of them were almost certainly men. Um, they were all dressed in black robes, and it was dark, so I couldn't make out hair colour, or anything like that. One of them seemed very tall, but the others had no distinguishing features I could make out." Lily felt quite useless – she had confirmed that there had been a magical presence near where the Auror had been killed on the night of his death, but she could offer no help in identifying the group of wizards.

Mrs. Potter, however, didn't seem to find her useless at all, and fired off quick questions about where, exactly, on the road the men had been standing, anything she could remember overhearing them say, and how long they had been there for. Lily answered all the questions as well as she could, but she felt frustrated with the lack of detail she was providing. She had just finished drawing a map of her road, the park, and where the men had been standing in relation to both, which Mrs. Potter was now inspecting, when a sudden crack made her jump.

James reached out and put a hand on her leg in reassurance, then, when they realised both realised what he had done, blushed and removed it. Lily found herself going far redder, for some reason, and glanced at Mrs. Potter, but she was still looking at the parchment. "Tricksy has brought the refreshments you has asked for," said a strange sounding voice, and Lily found herself looking at its source with some curiosity.

Tricksy was clearly a House Elf – the first one Lily had seen in real life. She had seen pictures of them in books, and had known that there were many who worked at Hogwarts, but she had never actually met one before now. Even at Marlene's house, which was definitely a magical residence, there were no House Elves. If she needed any more proof that James's family were wealthy, it was stood in front of her wearing an extremely strange mismatch of clothes, and offering her a glass of what looked like lemonade.

"Oh, thank you," she said in surprise.

"Miss is very welcome," said the Elf. Lily took a sip of her drink. It was delicious.

"Hey Tricksy, did you bring any of those amazing—you read my mind!" James grinned, accepting what looked like a chocolate brownie from the Elf.

"Tricksy has been looking after Master James since he was a baby, Tricksy knows what he likes," said the Elf. James looked flattered at this, and Lily couldn't help but laugh.

"Tricksy spoils Master James," muttered his mother, but without malice. James gave Lily a shrug.

"They're good brownies," he said, by way of explanation. "Have one."

"Miss would like a brownie?" Tricksy asked, and Lily took one out of politeness. The House Elf, satisfied, vanished with a crack. Lily took a bit of the brownie. James was right – they were good.

"Thank Tricksy for me," she said, having demolished the cake in no time at all.

James grinned. "I know that feeling," he said.

"Has she really been looking after you since you were born?" Lily asked, unable to help herself. Try as she might, she couldn't picture a baby James.

James nodded. "There were five House Elves here, in the Potter Ancestral Seat," he rolled his eyes at this, and Lily couldn't tell whether or not his sarcastic tone implied he was joking about the name of his house. "Mum freed 'em all, saying they could find employment elsewhere if they wanted, but two stayed. Mistry died when I was about seven, and since then it's just been Tricksy. She refuses to leave."

"Ah," Lily said, not really knowing how to respond. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like to grow up in a magical household, especially a traditional Pureblood one like James's. "So...uh..." she cast around for something to say, glancing over at Mrs. Potter who was still concentrating deeply on the parchment (and had pulled an old map off the bookshelf to compare it to). "Where's Sirius?"

"He's off with Moony and Wormtail for the day in Diagon," James said. Lily had long since gotten used to the Marauders strange nicknames for each other, though she wished she knew their origins. "I didn't think you'd appreciate him getting underfoot whilst you spoke to Mum."

"He's a good boy," Mrs. Potter murmured, and then, before either of them could say anything to this, looked up at Lily. "You said there was another family—magical family—living near you?"

Lily looked determinedly at her, ignoring James who she could tell had grown stiff beside her on the sofa even with the large gap between them. "Yes," she said, keeping her tone even and controlled. "There's a boy the same age as us two," she said, pointing to herself and James, "and his parents. He's an only child; his Mum's a witch but his Dad isn't."

"Your age...so he'd be seventeen, then? Going into seventh year in September?"

"Yes," Lily responded. Mrs. Potter clearly had no idea who the boy was – or if she did, she hid it well.

"I see," she said. "And as far as you're aware, there are no other magical families living nearby?"

Lily shook her head. "No, none at all."

"I suppose the nearest magical communities would be Hexagon Ally in Manchester," Mrs. Potter muttered, and Lily had to strain her ears to catch what she was saying. "But we've got watches there, and there was nothing seen...maybe Destwick? But no, that's nearer Nottingham, and it's so small that nothing would...Lily?" she asked, so suddenly that Lily nearly jumped again. "Do you know anything about the magical family who live near you?"

"Sev and I...know of each other, yes," Lily said, choosing her words very carefully. Beside her, James made a noise in his throat that she did her best to ignore.

"Sev...?"

"Severus Snape," Lily said. If the name meant anything to Mrs. Potter—and Lily had to suspect that it would, what with her being _James's_ mother—she hid it well, and Lily was impressed.

"Do you have any reason to believe that your friend – or his mother, you said she was a witch? Yes, do you have any reason to believe that either of them are likely to have been influenced by the followers of the man styling himself 'Lord Voldemort'?" she asked.

"No," Lily said quickly—too quickly. Mrs. Potter raised her eyebrows. "No, Sev wouldn't...he's not..." She saw Mrs. Potter glance at her son, and Lily didn't even have to turn to imagine what kind of face he was making.

"A man's dead, Lily," James spat harshly. "This isn't school, where it's just a matter of getting detention or—or losing a few house points; someone's _died_. If you think that—"

"Sev wouldn't be involved in something like this," Lily protested. He _wouldn't_. He _couldn't _be.

"Oh really?" James scoffed. "What about all the stuff he gets up to at school with Avery and Mulciber and all that lot? You know what they're like! Don't tell me it's just kids stuff – you _know_ what they did to Mary MacDonald! She's your best friend! That was _Dark Magic_ and if you think for a moment that—"

"James Potter!" his mother's voice was level, but booked no argument. James stopped talking immediately, but glared defiantly at Lily. Her arguments, protestations at Severus's innocence were lodged somewhere at the back of her throat, sticking there the moment he brought up Mary. Her bubbly, vivacious friend hadn't been quite the same since, and it was _that, _more than the Mudblood incident of their fifth year that had really destroyed her friendship with Severus. His attempted defence of their actions...well, what they had done was simply undefendable. But still. Sev _would not_ have been involved in a murder.

"Mrs. Potter—"

"Elizabeth," she said firmly.

"Elizabeth—Severus wouldn't kill someone. He wouldn't be involved in killing an Auror, or _anyone_. He might make some...some bad decisions, have a few suspicious friends, but he wouldn't kill anything," Lily said.

James started to say something that sounded like it could have been _I'm not so sure_ but Mrs. Potter silenced him with a look. Lily wished she knew how to do that.

"I am not sure if you are aware, Lily, but I am on the Board of Governors at Hogwarts," Mrs. Potter said. "The incident with Miss MacDonald was brought to our attention because it involved serious Dark Magic and thus was a disciplinary measure beyond a quick detention and a few docked points. I know that Mr. Snape was involved, and it sounds as though he does have a few questionable friends. For what it's worth, I do not think he was involved directly in murdering Auror Cornfoot – the _Avada Kedrava _that killed him was, as oxymoronic as it may seem, an excellently cast spell, done by someone who had practised and performed it before. It was not the work of some teenager trying to impress his friends. We also have evidence that Auror Cornfoot was tortured for information before he was killed, likely due to the cases of a...sensitive nature he was working on before his untimely death. Again, this is unlikely to be the work of a teenager."

Lily thought it best not to inform Mrs. Potter of Severus's startlingly good wandwork. If she thought he was innocent, she wasn't going to try to destroy this belief.

"Having said that," Mrs. Potter went on, "I don't believe that Mr. Snape, from what I know of him, doesn't know what his friends—including those who have left school—are up to. I am not suggesting he is involved with the Death Eaters himself, but I fear that, for a certain section of magical society, in which I include him, it is only a matter of time before becoming a Death Eater becomes _de rigueur_. The Death Eaters, we have noticed, have a certain form of..." She paused, searching for the right words. "If they want you to join them, and you've shown an interest and they've accepted you, they will often commit a crime very near to you. You won't be involved and you certainly won't be told when—or if—it's going to happen. But they'll do something high profile, like kill Auror Cornfoot, a few streets away from you to get your attention. Showing you what they're capable of, and what you've signed up to do, as well as warning you. 'If you back out now, this will be you.' Do you understand what I'm saying, Lily?"

Mrs. Potter's voice was kind and gentle, her eyes understanding, but Lily found she could no longer look at her. She tore her gaze away, only to have it land on James, who was watching her with an inscrutable look on his face.

"The facts about Auror Cornfoot's death – that he was tortured and that he was _Avada'd _by someone who knew what he or she was doing – are only known by a few people," Mrs. Potter said. "Mathias Fawcett – the Head of the Auror Office – is refusing to investigate any further, and is effectively sitting on people in the Department to keep that information quiet. I, being something of a renegade ex-colleague with little to lose, am in a position to...kick up a fuss, shall we say, about this. If I can prove to him that Auror Cornfoot's death fits a pattern, we might start getting somewhere in our investigations against the Death Eater group."

"How would you prove that his death fits a pattern?" Lily asked.

"There have been a number of deaths in recent months, very close to the main residences of people who were known—or later became known—as Death Eaters," Mrs. Potter sighed. "Auror Cornfoot's murder is merely the latest and most high profile. If you are sure that Severus Snape's family is the only magical family near you, it would not take much digging to show that his track record indicates involvement with people who are already known to have family connections to the Death Eater movement. It could be that Mr. Snape does not know what he's getting himself into. We could help him—and he will not be charged with any involvement in the death of Ian Cornfoot."

"Could you not just look at the addresses of witches and wizards who live locally?" Lily asked.

"We could, but getting the right clearance from all the correct sections and offices involved would take several months, especially with Mathias Fawcett putting pressure on people who try to do just that," Mrs. Potter said. "Then there'd be the matter of running the background checks on people found to be living nearby...it would take ages. And who knows how strong a hold the Death Eaters might have on Severus by then?"

Mrs. Potter was manipulating her, Lily felt sure, but if she was manipulating her into doing the right thing, was that so bad? Maybe. She bit her lip, wishing someone would tell her what the right course of action was.

"What would I need to do?" she asked her lap, quietly.

"Allow me to take all the information you've given me today to my contacts in the Auror office," Mrs. Potter said. "We would do the rest—and we'd keep your name out of it."

Lily looked up. "The Ministry wouldn't know it was me, but Severus would," she said.

"He might suspect, but I'd ensure he wouldn't be able to get proof it was you. And we'd offer you protection on your parents' house," Mrs. Potter said. Lily jumped at this. It was one of the reasons she had brought the information to Mrs. Potter, in the hope that she could bargain some protection for her mother and sister out of the situation, but Mrs. Potter couldn't know that.

"What sort of protection?" she asked.

"Wards, similar to what we have here, but not on as grand a scale," Mrs. Potter said quickly. "Defensive measures, disguises, that sort of thing. And of course, we'd keep it off the record again. I'd get Frank Longbottom and his fiancée Alice on the case for you – do you know them?"

Lily nodded. "I knew Alice; she was Head Girl a few years ago. She used to lead the Defence club."

"They're second to none at protection, both excellent Aurors," Mrs. Potter said. "In a few years, they'll be well on their way to leading the entire department. And they're old family friends, I could stress to them the importance of keeping this quiet and they'd understand, I promise."

Lily glanced over at James. He nodded once. Of course, she found herself thinking, of _course_ he would agree with his mother's plan – especially when it involved Severus. Merlin only knew, there was certainly no love lost between those two. But his expression was so kind, so reassuring...and James, for all his faults, was a Gryffindor through and through. He always did the _right _thing, even if it cost him at the time. Why, years ago, he had been the one to save Sev from whatever had gone on down by the Whomping Willow – and that was far more than just a simple schoolboy prank, she knew.

She found herself, perhaps inexplicably, trusting him. He thought this was the right course of action. She'd do it.

"Okay," she said, addressing Mrs. Potter but keeping her eyes on her son for just a moment more. "I'll...I'll do it. I'll be your anonymous source."

* * *

Mrs. Potter moved quickly. After a final few follow up questions, once Lily had agreed to be her source, she had disappeared off to the Ministry, where, James informed her, she still had quite a few friends who were willing to bend the rules—for her and for their former colleague, Auror Cornfoot. She had insisted Lily stay at the house, in case she needed to ask any more questions of her, and also because she promised to bring Frank and Alice back with her when she came. They were to put the protective wards on her house that evening.

James had taken her on a brief tour of the house, introducing her to the portraits of some of his ancestors, which had proved more than a little amusing. He'd found Tricksy, who'd given the two of them more lemonade, which they'd taken out into the garden visible from the white room. They sat on a swing seat which had some unidentifiable magical plant growing around it (Lily never had been good at Herbology, but the flower was pretty and it smelled divine, so she wasn't complaining) and James talked about his father.

He wasn't saying much of substance, but Lily let him chatter on, remembering how important it had felt when her own father died that she was just allowed to talk at her own pace without interruption about him. She hadn't wanted to talk to anyone who had known him, because they would invariably jump in with some story of their own about him and she had, perhaps rather selfishly, wanted to keep all the stories and grieving to herself. If someone else had started to say something along the lines of "Oh yes, I remember when..." she used to make her excuses and leave, feeling jealous of the person talking that they had spent time with her father—time he could have been spending with _her_. She knew, of course, that this was foolish and ridiculous, but that, she supposed, was grief in a nutshell: foolish and ridiculous. If James was feeling the same way, it was probably why he had chosen to tell her these tales of his father's life, rather than Sirius or Remus or Peter, as she hadn't known him at all, and therefore wouldn't try to appropriate his feelings.

Or maybe, she thought suddenly, it was because they were friends now, and that was what friends did. The idea surprised her, but it didn't shock her, and this realisation made her smile. "What?" James asked, and Lily blushed bright red, realising that smiling whilst someone was telling you about their father's funeral wasn't the best move.

"Sorry," she stuttered. "I was just thinking about...about us."

"Us?" asked James, throwing her a quizzical look.

"I mean...we're friends now, aren't we?" Lily said.

"We've been friends all year..." replied James.

"Not really," Lily said. "I mean, we've got on better than we used to. Probably for a variety of reasons," she added delicately, and James actually snorted at this. "But we weren't friends, just...acquaintances. But now I think we _are _friends," she finished somewhat lamely, realising that she didn't really have much of a point to make.

"Well, it only took two deaths and a murder," James said, faux-cheerily, but Lily gave a snort of laughter before she could stop herself.

"Sorry," she said, her eyes widening. "That was probably inappropriate..."

"It probably was," James agreed, not sounding at all bothered by this. "But seriously," he added, "I know I've said it before, but really: thank you for looking after me, at school that time. I was...I was a bit of a mess, and I really do appreciate it. And I do owe you."

"Oh, please," Lily said, "Like _I've _said before, you don't owe me anything. And even if you did, I think you've more than paid me back, sorting everything out today."

"That was mostly my mother," James pointed out.

"It was, I suppose," she replied. "She's a remarkable woman."

"She is quite incredible," he agreed.

"So quite how she managed to give birth to someone like _you_—oi!" she finished, laughing, as he shoved her and she nearly toppled off the swing seat. "Watch it, Potter."

"Watch it, Potter!" he mimicked, falsetto.

"Oh, mature," she responded.

"Oh, mature!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you just copying everything I say now?"

"Are you just copying everything I say now?"

"Lily Evans is spectacular!"

"Lily Evans _is _spectacular," he said, staring quite pointedly at her chest. She should, of course, have been horrified by this, and perhaps thrown some cutting response in his direction about the despicableness of objectification. But whilst all that was true, she found herself remembering the kiss from earlier (and the fluttery feeling in her stomach it had left her with) and so instead she merely raised an eyebrow at him.

"You said it," she muttered.

"I did," he grinned.

_He already told you he's not interested in you anymore _Lily told herself as she smiled back, and hastily changed the subject. "When will your mother be back?"

"Not too much longer, I should think," he said. "Frank and Alice will finish work soon, then they'll come straight here before we go to your place. Will your mother be in?"

"No—she and Petunia have gone to Manchester for the day, to try on wedding dresses. They're going out for a meal with the bridesmaids afterwards, so they won't be back until about nine, ten o'clock ish," she replied.

James nodded. "Is your sister getting married?"

"Yes, at Easter," Lily replied.

"Easter?! And they're already sorting out dresses?" James asked. Lily laughed.

"Of course! How long do you think it takes to plan a wedding?"

"I'm proud to say I have no idea," James said. "Anyway, it's good that they're out—you have to completely empty a house to put wards on it..."

"How will they work, the wards?" Lily asked. "I don't want them to know about it, if possible—Mum would only worry. But if it's going to be something like what's on your house—you know, that you have to be accompanied by a member of the family to get near—well...that could be a bit awkward. What would the postman do, for a start?!"

"I discussed it with Mum before she left. What she's going to do, is get them to put on a charm that will alert someone in the Auror Department if magic is done within your house. But they can adapt the charm so that the magic of certain people—yourself, obviously, and maybe Mary and Marlene, as I'd imagine they come round a lot?—doesn't trigger the alarm."

"That sounds like the best idea," Lily said. "I mean, it's just a precaution, after all...I don't think we'll need anything more serious than that."

"Of course," said James seriously. "There is one thing though."

"What?"

"Well, I mean, we'll have to make sure that the wards are working properly. It'd be good to have someone popping along and performing a spell every couple of days, just to be completely certain that they're still active..."

"I'm sure Frank and Alice are alright at protective wards, being, you know, Aurors and all..." Lily said drily.

"Ah, but that's the thing—Alice is a year younger than Frank if you recall, and so she's only a Trainee. And Frank's barely qualified!" James said earnestly.

"Alice Figg could beat you in a duel blindfolded and probably without a wand," Lily laughed.

"You're probably right," he agreed. "But in these times, better safe than sorry, yeah?"

"I suppose that is a good point," Lily allowed. "In that case, I shall invite Sirius to come over every other day, to check everything's in order!"

James raised an eyebrow. "Padfoot? Put things in order?"

"Maybe Remus then?" suggested Lily. "Or perhaps Peter?" She giggled at James, who was practically pouting. "I'm sure I can find _someone _who's free..."

"I don't have plans for Thursday," James said. "Well, I mean, I _do_, but I suppose it wouldn't be too much trouble to change them. I can always save the world on Friday, can't I?"

"That'd work much better actually—the pubs have late opening on a Friday night, and saving the world would mean you deserve a drink or two, I think," she replied.

"Definitely," he nodded. "So how about it Evans—drinks at the Leaky on Friday?"

Lily hesitated for a moment. "No," she said, and he looked genuinely crestfallen for a moment. "But," she continued quickly, talking to one of the flowers just to the right of his head, "I mean...it could be really useful if you came round on Thursday. Just to test out Frank and Alice's spellwork, of course."

"Of course," James grinned. "That sounds...good to me."

"Good," Lily repeated, smiling back at him. He shifted ever so slightly closer to her on the bench, and opened his mouth to say something in response, but a sudden noise from inside the house startled them. They turned back towards the house to see Frank and Alice peering through the French windows, Alice waving enthusiastically when she saw Lily.

"We'll come up," James called, getting to his feet. He offered a hand to Lily, to help her up from the bench. "Are you coming?"

Again, Lily hesitated for a moment. She was even less certain where she stood with James now. They were certainly more than nodding acquaintances, but she wasn't sure if she could legitimately call him a friend as such just yet. Yes, they'd both helped each other out in very difficult circumstances, but they barely knew anything about each other. She couldn't tell you his favourite band or colour, or his least favourite lesson or what his first bit of accidental magic was, or what his plans for the future involved—or all the other thousands of little things she knew about Mary and Marlene and the rest. He'd spent third through fifth year constantly asking her out, but had just as suddenly stopped this at the beginning of sixth year, and he'd said when she arrived that he didn't like her in that way anymore. And of course, she'd never had _those _sorts of feelings for him.

But the kiss had been...quite something, even if it was for innocent reasons, and their conversation just now could be described as flirtatious (although maybe only if you were Mary, who thought that any conversation about more than just the weather or homework between two people was flirtatious). Quite what all of this meant, though, Lily could not say.

And now James stood in front of her, in his dead father's garden, grinning and holding out a hand towards her. Though this didn't do anything to make her more or less certain about where they stood, Lily knew there was only one way to find out.

She reached over, closing the gap between them, and took his hand.

* * *

**A/N: **So, yes, this is for **glowing-neons **who began the Gift Giving Extravaganza, and I'm very, very sorry for the lateness of this. Real life got in the way, but I've been working on this (and a few other things...) over the past few months which means that I'm officially back to the world of ! I'm sure you missed me loads... Anyway, a review would be lovely if you've got this far :)


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